


With a Little Help from My Friends

by Yamx



Category: White Collar
Genre: Anniversary, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/pseuds/Yamx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things, Peter's just not good at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a Little Help from My Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



> Written as a stocking stuffer for Elrhiarhodan. Have a fantastic 2012! :)
> 
> Thanks to Canaan for the beta.

Peter packed his briefcase with a tune on his lips. Another case solved—mortgage fraud, brought to light by endless pursuit of paper trails and mountains of cross-referencing—and he was actually going to be home in time for a leisurely dinner and some relaxed TV with his beautiful—

His eyes fell on his desk calendar and he stopped cold. "Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no!" He looked through the glass wall of his office down into the bullpen. Neal was still sitting at his desk, fiddling with his tie drawer. Abandoning all pretense of cool-headed dignity in a crisis, Peter took the steps two at a time on his way down.

"Neal! You've got to help me."

Neal smiled up at him calmly. "You're covered."

"No, not about the case! It's my anniversary! I forgot our anniversary! Again!"

Neal stood up, a smile playing on his lips. "No, you didn't."

"I didn't?" What was Neal talking about?

"Of course not." Neal pulled Peter's car keys from his tie drawer and handed them to him.

Peter stared from the keys to Neal, uncomprehending.

"There's a beautiful bouquet of red grand prix roses on the passenger seat. Don't forget to take them out of the paper before giving them to her."

"The paper, right." Peter took a deep breath.

"Your gifts are in the trunk. The one in the big green box is a fuzzy logic rice cooker—not very romantic, but she's been wanting one." At this point, Peter decided it was easiest to just nod along.

"The smaller golden box is lingerie. Matched set, black lace with red trims, very tasteful, she'll look gorgeous in it."

Peter blinked. "You bought my wife lingerie?"

"It _is_ your anniversary." The _and you got her nothing_ was no less clear for being unspoken.

"What if it doesn't fit?" Peter protested weakly.

Neal raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry." _Of course it'll fit._

"Right. You have reservations at eight at _La Belle Étoile_ \--I programmed it into your GPS under 'anniversary.'"

Peter vaguely remembered that as the name of the new "experimental restaurant"--he shuddered at the thought of what that might mean—that El had been wanting to go to. She'd said it was impossible to get reservations unless you were a movie star or a mob boss. Peter decided not to ask.

"When you get there, you order the asparagus shrimp platter for a starter, and then the Chateaubriand for both of you. When they ask you for your wine choice, order the Crozes-Hermitage."

Peter was lost, but he was sure Neal knew what he was talking about, so he just did his best to remember it.

Neal smiled indulgently. "I wrote it down for you." He put a small green index card undoubtedly stolen from Diana's desk into Peter's shirt pocket. "It's steak and red wine," he added with a grin. Peter brightened considerably.

"The Mousse au Chocolate is to die for, if you want dessert. And do have an espresso before you leave, their house roast is incredible."

Peter nodded. Fancy chocolate pudding and coffee—this he could handle.

"Oh, and when you go to bed, El will find a little surprise under her pillow."

"Under her— You broke into my house?"

Neal's eyes widened with affronted innocence. "Of course not!" He gestured to the anklet. "How could I?"

Peter rubbed his eyes. It was best not to pursue this. It'd be a shame to have to arrest Neal, or more likely Mozzie, for breaking and entering after they'd gone to all this trouble for him. "What is it?" he asked instead.

Neal grinned. "Ah, that would be telling." He took Peter by the shoulders, turned him around, and physically pushed him towards his office. "Get your things and leave. Don't worry about me, Jones will give me a ride home."

In the elevator, Peter pulled out the little green index card. It contained the name and address of the restaurant, the time of their reservation, the right menu choices, and a small note saying _tip at least 25%_. All, he noted with a grin, in his own handwriting.

Yep, there sure were advantages to having the world's best conman for a friend.

***

As Peter was lying in bed much later that night, El's head resting on his shoulder and her hair spread out over his chest, he realized he'd never thanked Neal for doing all this. He'd have to do that first thing tomorrow.

Heck, he should do more than thank him—Neal had definitely earned a trip to an art gallery or museum outside his radius. It was the least Peter could do to show his appreciation for the gifts, and the reservations, and the menu advice.

And especially for the chocolate sauce.

The End


End file.
